The Fates Decide
by DragonLadie
Summary: Two worlds, one fate. Who is the reality, Roger Smith, or Spike Spiegel? Please Read!
1. Paradigm City

Title: The Fates Decide  
  
By: DragonLady  
  
Disclaimer: I own my computer, this story, and a shiny red truck. The characters belong to other people in a land over the ocean. I make no claim to them, other than to ask permission to play with them once in awhile.  
  
Summery: Um, well... Most of you will probably be very confused (not to worry- this story confuses ME!) As best as I can summarize it, this is (kinda) a crossover between Cowboy Bebop and Big O. I started out with this mainly because of the many similarities I found between the two series. I won't go into too much detail about that considering I mention some of those similarities in my story. Suffice to say, Spike and Roger, and Faye and Angel both have the same American voice actors in the shows. That, honestly, was the first thing that got me thinking about a crossover. Gosh- this thing has really grown since then! I have this massive, overwhelming THEME that I want to carefully bring out in the course of this story. I beg you all to have patience with me as I write this out. It seems really cool in my head- I hope it remains so as a posted story. Before I let you go- I ask one small favor.  
  
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!! This is what helps me write!  
  
Thank you. (bows)   
  
Paradigm City  
  
The report of the gun still echoed in his ears. A sharp pain exploded in his shoulder, and he clenched his teeth to hold back a cry of agony.   
  
Inexplicably, the sound of a piano boomed around him.  
  
Roger Smith jerked awake, sitting up quickly in his large bed. Ignored, his sweat-soaked pillow slid to the floor. The phantom pain vanished from his forehead as he wiped a hand across his face. Glancing at the clock, he flopped back on his bed again. "Dorothy, it's ten- DAMNED- am, have a heart!" Despite his muttering, the piano continued playing in the other room. Grumbling to himself, Roger rolled from the bed and pulled on his bathrobe, stalking from his room.   
  
In the other room, Dorothy was just finishing the first stanza. Raising his hand, Roger pointed at her, clenching his teeth. Then, shaping his hand in a fist, he turned, wordlessly, and went back to his room to take a shower. Yep, it was gonna be a day all right.  
  
Twenty minutes later, and feeling two hundred percent better than before, Roger sat down at the table for breakfast. "Good morning Master Roger. Sleep well?" Taking a sip of juice, Roger glanced up at his faithful butler. "Morning Norman. The night was bliss, as usual." Seeing through the façade, Norman, none-the-less, handed Roger his morning paper. "Would you care for Eggs Benedict this morning sir?" Roger nodded, engrossed in his reading. "That would be fine Norman, thank you." The older man smiled. "No need to thank me, sir. Dorothy cooked breakfast this morning." Before Roger could respond, Norman had left the room.  
  
The afternoon passed slowly, honeyed light drifting across the floor with the movement of the sun. At precisely 2 pm, a visitor came to the door.   
  
Roger was on the patio when Norman announced the guest. Smiling, Roger straightened his tie, and turned. "How do you do Miss.... Angel?" The woman smiled at his expression. "Roger, dear, it's good to see you again too!" Hiding his feelings behind a polite smile, Roger held out his arm. "Would you like to sit, have a drink?" Angel leaned against the cool stone of the outer wall. "Thank you, I'm fine. Besides, I'm not staying long." Leaning against the balcony, Roger folded his arms. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" The blonde smiled, twirling a shapely finger through her hair. "What, you don't think I dropped by simply to share your company?" Returning the smile, Roger straightened. "I'm sure there's more to it than just pleasant conversation." Angel opened her purse, retrieving a battered silver watch from the depths. "And it's not even my birthday." Replied Roger as he took the timepiece from her outstretched hand. Ignoring the sarcasm, Angel continued. "It belonged to Dr. Eugene Blake. As you probably heard, he was killed last evening at around eleven fifteen." Roger's brows pulled together. "According to the police, he died of natural causes." Holding up the watch, he looked her in the eye. "And if it was murder, what are you doing with this?" Angel folded her hands. "It showed up at my door this morning, along with this." Roger looked up as she passed him a large envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. The letters X.P.D.- H.H.Q. were written there in a bold hand. No other writing was present. "What does it mean?" Angel shook her head. "I don't know. I am certain, however, that Dr. Blake is the one that sent it to me." Squinting his eyes at the letters, Roger frowned. Grunting, he passed the objects back to Angel. "I still don't know what this is about, or, for that matter, what your involvement is. And how do you even know that this is his watch?" Angel caressed the tarnished silver gently. "Simple.... I gave it to him."  
  
Roger and Angel sat across from each other in the dining room. Untouched cups of coffee slowly cooled before them. "Tell me, why do you think it was murder?" Angel looked down at her hands, all pretense gone. "About four years ago, I met Eugene.... Dr. Blake, at a nightclub called the Calypso. He was with about six colleagues at the time, sitting around discussing dry medical text. A friend introduced us."   
  
Roger nodded. "Let me guess, he was stricken by your beauty?"   
  
Angel's mouth opened in a slight huff. "Uh, not exactly. In fact, he accused me of acting too shallow to hide my intelligence." Roger laughed, trying to picture the look on her face when she heard that. "No doubt endearing himself to you in the process."   
  
Angel smiled sadly. "Yeah. Can't say we really hit it off right from the start. However, I suppose we both gave each other another chance. I saw him again about five months later. This time around, I didn't plan on letting him get the upper hand. Of course, it took him about three seconds to destroy my intentions. In fact, I never could talk to the man without him seeing right through me. But.... somehow, I didn't care. Somehow, I felt like I could trust him." She brushed her hand across the cracked face of the watch. "I gave him this about two years ago. No matter what he was doing, he was always late. I used to tease him about it all the time! As a doctor, you'd think promptness would be second nature." Roger looked at her with a half-smile. "You've never had to sit in a waiting room before." Standing up straight, Angel pressed the watch into Roger's hand. "Two nights ago, Eugene called me to say his life was in danger. He told me that a project he was working on was being threatened, that it was prompting questions that certain people would rather not have answered. He wanted to meet with me last night."  
  
Roger studied her face. "You didn't meet with him, did you." Angel shook her head, staring at her shoes. "It was suggested to me that I stay out of it." Roger stared, taking her arm suddenly. "Angel, who suggested it!" Tearing out of his grasp, she met his eyes coldly. "That doesn't matter, they weren't the ones behind it." Dropping his hands, Roger returned her look. "Why should I look into this? What is your interest Angel- and don't say it's because he's an old friend! I know you." Dropping the other item to the table, Angel strode for the door, pausing for a moment to look over her shoulder. "When you find out who killed him, you'll realize why this is in everyone's interest." Flipping her hair, she walked through the door.   
  
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.I had such a hard time deciding whether to post this here or under Big O. In the end- I was swayed by numbers. There are a lot more stories posted under Bebop- therefore more people are checking out this part of the site. I swear- the Bebop guys will show up soon- please keep reading! 


	2. Of Dreams and Memories

Of Dreams and Memories  
  
Hot, sweat rolled down his face. A gunshot sounded behind him, and he ducked to avoid being hit. A chuckle sounded nearby, and he clutched the gun in his hand tightly. There was another shot, and he jumped out from hiding...   
  
Roger half- yelled as his body struck the floor. With a groan, he lifted his head, squinting at the pale shaft of sunlight that filtered down on him. Another beautiful morning. Damn, he was even up before Dorothy had a chance to wake him. With that thought, he heard the first keys struck on the piano. Ahh, sweet bliss. Banishing sarcasm, Roger pulled on his bathrobe and stiffly strode from the room. Not even sparing the android a glance, he stepped out on the balcony. Distantly, he heard the music behind him stop. A soft tread announced her presence as she stepped up beside him. "Roger." He looked down at her, noting the way her hair blew about her face in the updraft of wind. "Good morning Dorothy." She turned her head to regard him steadily with an unfaltering gaze.   
  
"Roger, is there something troubling you?" The Negotiator felt his jaw come open in surprise, and he closed it quickly. "Now Dorothy, why would you ask?" The android looked out over the city. "Every day for the past two weeks, I have woken you by playing. Every day, you've run from your room and berated me for playing, as you put it, 'that god- awful racket.' However, this morning, you said nothing. Something is troubling you." Roger chuckled. "Dorothy, have you ever considered psychiatry?" Dorothy placed her hands behind her back. "Roger, you are evading the question." A clearing throat made Roger turn. "Ahh, saved by the butler. What is it Norman?"   
  
"Sir, a Morgan Love is on the phone and wishes to speak with you." Leaving Dorothy to contemplate the city, Roger picked up the phone.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Roger, what have you found out?"  
  
Roger chuckled. Miss 'Love' is it?" Angel didn't miss a beat. "I know you went out yesterday. Did you find out anything?" Roger sat in a handy chair and tipped himself back against the wall. "Are you going to be checking up on me every day?" The irritation in her voice was palatable. "I thought we had a deal 'Mr. Negotiator'." Roger dropped the legs of his chair down with a * thump *. "I work on my own timetable, and that doesn't involve checking in with you every ten minutes." His voice softened slightly as his ire died down. "Look, I know this is important. When I have some news, I'll let you know." He barely heard her response before she hung up the phone. "Thank you, Roger." Rubbing a hand across his face, Roger tipped the chair back against the wall again. Closing his eyes, he was just beginning to relax when he felt a hand on his knee. Opening his eyes again, he saw Dorothy looking at him steadily. "Roger, this position will damage the furniture." Smiling, Roger allowed the chair legs to return to their former place. "What would I do without you Dorothy?" The android regarded him a moment. "It is likely you would continue negotiating, taking time to date shallow women and consort with little-known acquaintances in shady bars.... much as you do now. However, you would also oversleep, causing you to miss appointments, and most of your furniture would need to be replaced." Smirking, Roger ran a hand through his hair. "Thank you for summing up my existence in such an exciting manner." Dorothy turned away, silently straightening the room. Roger watched her for a while, a slight frown on his face. Something about her tickled at something in the back of his mind. There was a flash of red hair and a smiling face.... and then it was gone, buried again. Shaking his head, Roger stood and walked to his room.  
  
The bar was quiet this time of day. Smoke wove lazily in the air, drifting slightly where it encountered spinning fans. A few people sat in stools, sipping languidly at their drinks. Most people, however, sat at the many tables that were scattered about the room. At one of these tables Roger Smith sat, pretending to read the paper. Amid the gentle conversation, his eyes scanned silently. His contact should have been here by now. A waitress drifted to his table. "No thank you." Said Roger aimlessly, holding up his hand. She continued forward until she stood before him. "Would you like to try our special today?" Roger glanced up at her. "Thanks, I'm not hungry." Undeterred, the young woman held a menu before him. "I think you'd like it, it's the cook's favorite!" Glancing at the menu, Roger paused. Something was scribbled on the lower corner of the menu. "Cook's favorite you say?" The waitress nodded. "If you'd like, I can give you a few minutes." Roger lifted the menu. "Thanks, I'd appreciate it." Barely registering her departure, he examined the note closely. 'Too hot. Will contact tonight. Black Dog Inn.' There was a time there as well. After reading the note, Roger dipped the edge of his napkin in his water glass and cleaned off the writing. Then, with a cautious look around, he departed, leaving a sizeable tip for the waitress.   
  
The shadows were long when Roger stepped under the awning of the Black Dog. He couldn't see Big Ear, but he knew he was there. "Well?" A shifting foot was the only sign of the other man. "Your doctor was practicing more than medicine." Allowing Big Ear time to speak, Roger put his hands in his pockets; sinking a little deeper into the shadows. "He was subsidized by a company known as Syne-Dyne- you may have heard of them." Roger nodded, though the gesture was lost in the darkness.   
  
"Yes, I have heard of them. I thought that company folded over a decade ago."  
  
Big Ear grunted. "So did a lot of people. Turns out they simply 'hid out' for a while, changed the name to something innocuous. They've been working under the guise of 'Future Technologies' for the past ten years- churning out little advances now and then, but nothing too radical. However, beneath the surface..." Big Ear paused, lowering his voice even more. "The work they were doing required a significant cash flow. There are a lot of politicians sticking money into this thing. The biggest contributor is Alex Rosewater." Roger's jaw dropped, but Big Ear continued speaking. "All of this was to aid your dear doctor in his research." Shifting his feet, Roger looked around cautiously before speaking. "What was the research?" A car drove by, and both men fell silent until it passed out of sight. Big Ear slipped a piece of paper into Roger's hand. "You'll find what you need here." Folding the paper into his coat pocket, Roger passed a thick roll of bills to the other man. Not looking back, he stepped away, melting into the night.  
  
The pavement flew by in a gray blur as the heavy-bodied black car roared down the freeway. In the sky, only a sliver of moon remained, its feeble light adding a glow to the water beneath the bridge ahead. "Norman." The butler appeared on the small screen in his dash. "Yes, Master Roger?"   
  
"I'm afraid I'll be a bit late tonight- I'm checking something out. Do you have my position?" The butler smiled. "Of course sir. Would you like it sent there?" Shifting up a notch, Roger put his foot to the floor. "You read my mind."   
  
The address given to him by Big Ear was in a shoddy part of town. "Figures." Muttered Roger under his breath as he pulled out his flashlight. The small beam highlighted busted masonry, sagging doors, shattered windows. As he stepped forward, he stumbled on the broken torso of what had once been a beautiful sculpture. Glancing down, he frowned at the face that looked up at him. It was a woman, frail looking under the light of his beam. Her hair was long, down to the middle of her waist. The arms were broken off, and lying off to the side. A long crack ran up the middle of the face, dividing the features, and adding to the sadness of the expression. Roger found himself kneeling by the figure, and was ashamed to discover he was on the edge of tears. Shaking his head and forcing a chuckle, he stood to his feet again. Squaring his shoulders, the negotiator stepped through the looming doorway.  
  
Dust hung in the air like a shroud. Coughing, Roger held his sleeve over his mouth as he proceeded further into the demolished structure. An eerie sound broke the silence, and his eyes raked the ceiling until he located the owl hunting among the cracked eaves. He frowned, wondering at the sight of such a rare animal. Shrugging the thought away, he ducked his head and moved on.   
  
Several minutes later, Roger was muttering curses under his breath as he clambered away from yet another dead end. A thick streak of grime ran across his forehead, as well as stained both hands. Wiping his palms on a handkerchief, Roger paused to get his bearings. He had already explored several rooms to no avail. In fact, for the first time, he was starting to think Big Ear had sent him on a wild goose chase. "Never thought of you as the practical joke type." He said out loud, smiling in spite of himself. Well only a few more rooms to explore before he'd experienced the full tour. As he stepped forward, Roger felt something move beneath his feet. With a sharp yell, he jumped back, brandishing his flashlight like a club. Unfortunately, in doing so- he sent the beam away from whatever he'd stepped on. Quickly recovering his cool, he turned the light on the unknown object.   
  
It was a dog.  
  
Roger's jaw dropped. "What in the hell?" Owls were one thing. But dogs ran right up there with finding plutonium in a swamp. Roger cautiously leaned forward to examine the beast more closely. It was primarily brown, with a few white markings. And it was small- with two sharp ears turned toward him curiously. Considering how rare dogs were to begin with, Roger wasn't surprised he couldn't identify the breed. "Hey boy- what are you doing here?" The dog responded with a sharp bark, and quickly bounded away. With a quick intake of breath, Roger shot after the creature, stumbling a little as he ran.   
  
Ahead, the dog made a quick turn down a long hallway. While some part of him realized how stupid this was, none-the-less, Roger continued his pursuit. The chase came to an abrupt end at a blank wall. Pausing to catch his breath, Roger looked at the dog, who returned his gaze eagerly. "Well... now what?" As if in response, the small animal reached out with a paw and clawed at a slight indentation in the wall. Immediately, the wall began to rise. Without thought, Roger scooped up the dog and backed away, shielding his eyes from the sudden burst of light. When the spots faded, he found himself looking down from an observation deck into a vast chamber. Spotlights illuminated the area, giving everything a feeling of the surreal. The sound of machinery came to him, and he could detect movement in the distance. He realized he was in a very precarious position- especially when the sound of gunfire suddenly erupted around him. "Damn!" He shouted, throwing himself back into the previous room. The dog bounded from his arms, making a beeline for the exit. Following close behind, Roger had almost made it when he felt a stinging slap in the back of his left leg. Rolling to the ground, he grit his teeth in pain. More shots exploded around him as he pulled himself forward. One shot grazed his side, while another sent a bolt of agony through him where it impacted with his shoulder. Slumping forward, Roger reached for his watch, and connected with a slender hand instead! He barely had time to register who it was when he was dragged from the room. The wall slid down behind him with a solid thunk. On the other side, the muffled sounds of gunfire could barely be heard. Roger looked into the face of his rescuer. "R. Dorothy." The android tilted her head, regarding him solemnly. "You are injured." Roger looked himself over. "What, this?" His response was cut off as he suddenly slumped forward, halted in mid-fall by two solid arms around his waist. Laying one arm around Dorothy's shoulder, Roger held her tightly as he limped forward, glancing back at the door. "We probably should move a bit faster..."   
  
"Of course Roger." Without missing a beat, Dorothy scooped him up in her arms and ran from the building. Roger smiled a little when Dorothy set him gently into the passenger's side of the car before nimbly installing herself behind the wheel. They left rubber on the pavement as she wheeled the heavy machine around amidst a hail of bullets. In moments, they were gone. "It's not often the prince is rescued by the princess."   
  
"Do you consider yourself a prince, Roger Smith?" Roger opened his mouth, then simply smiled. Dorothy glanced into the rear-view mirror. "They are pursuing." Roger looked back. Sure enough, two cars and a heavy truck were quickly closing. Bullets spattered the pavement around them, occasionally striking the car. "What do you say we give them something to think about?" As he spoke, Roger flipped a switch- and with a jolt, two small rockets shot from the rear of the car. The first two vehicles swerved to avoid the missiles, and took out each other instead. The heavy-bodied truck avoided both the missiles and the car wreak- and continued to give chase. "Damn, slipped through." Roger grunted in pain as Dorothy swerved to avoid more shots aimed their way. One bullet took out the right side mirror. Roger clenched his hands. "It's one thing to shoot me- nobody shoots my car!" Deftly, he reached over and flipped another switch. There was a muffled clunk as something released onto the concrete. Seconds later, the truck jerked to the side as a small explosion went off beneath it. Roger watched long enough to see it roll a few times before the pain overtook him again. Sliding down in his seat, he barely noticed when Dorothy reached out to grip his arm.  
  
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Thank you to those who've kept reading, your reward is one chapter away! I know for review purposes, I should have loaded these up one at a time- but I was excited to have this posted. Anyhow- I look forward to hearing from you! 


	3. Money Matters

Money Matters  
  
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He awoke slowly, feeling a cool breeze on his face. Rolling stiffly on his side, he found himself lying on a couch. Above his head, a metal fan spin swiftly, creating a soft wind. "Bizarre." He muttered, clutching his head. Fragments of the dream he'd had came to him slowly, rising like gas bubbles through mud. Something about a shootout, a red-headed girl, a watch. He grunted. Even those images were fading. "How you feelin'?" Asked a deep voice. He looked up at the man leaning over him. "Not too bad, considering I've got a knife wound in my shoulder." Jet chuckled as he sat down on the couch next to Spike. "Maybe next time you'll listen when I tell you to wait." Spike rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, well maybe next time you should get there on time. There anything to eat around here?" Jet looked at his partner strangely. "Sure, let me go whip up some Eggs Benedict. Of course there's nothing to eat! You ate the last of the instant noodles for breakfast! And if you hadn't gotten stabbed, that bounty could have paid for more." Spike toned out everything after Eggs Benedict. Why did that nag at him? Something was connected to those words. He remembered an old man, a butler.... then nothing- it was gone. "I'm gonna take a shower." He said, levering himself upright. Jet simply grumbled under his breath.   
  
Under the hot spray, more images came to Spike. He remembered being shot, twice- no- three times. And a red- headed girl had rescued him. Something about her had been special.... But what was it? "Spike, you going to be in there all day!?" A hand beat on the door. "Speaking of special." Muttered Spike, turning off the water. Draping a towel loosely about his waist, he slid open the door. "Feeling dirty Faye?" Faye Valentine placed her hands on her shapely hips and glared daggers at the slender man in front of her. "In case you didn't notice, I was the one who had to collect YOUR bounty after you guys screwed it up!" Spike smiled condescendingly. "The only reason you got him was because I'd already shot him in the ass. Makes it kinda hard to run." Faye tossed her head, flipping her dark hair. "Please- that little 'flesh wound' didn't even slow him down. Lucky for you I caught him at all!" Spike crossed his arms. "For you to catch him, it HAD to be luck." Faye's eyes burned. "Listen you..."   
  
"Ok children, enough crap out of both of you- you're giving me a worse headache than I already have!" Spike turned as Jet walked past- leaving just enough room for Faye to slip past him and lock the door. "Hey!" He kicked the door, and instantly regretted it when he stubbed his toe. "Ouch- damn it, where's my gun!" A girlish giggle came through the door. "You mean this gun? Really Spike, you shouldn't leave these things lying around." Gritting his teeth, Spike leaned in close. "Good thing I keep another one in my room." Her voice came back to him, just as close. "Don't even think about it." Her threat was followed up by the sound of a hammer cocking. Abandoning his shower, Spike put his hands behind his head and strode away.  
  
Forty-five minutes later, Spike stepped into The Griffon, a local pool hall. There were very few patrons this time of night. A few surly looking men sat at the bar, smoke drifting around them while they nursed their beers. As Spike lifted a pool cue from the rack, a slim hand appeared and took it from him. Spike turned to see a woman standing behind him dressed in black. Thick blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in heavy curls. Her smile was tilted to the side as she regarded him. "I'm sorry, but this is my favorite cue. I hope you don't mind." Spike smiled, grabbing another stick. "Not as long as you join me in a game miss..."  
  
"Angel."  
  
Spike smiled. "Miss Angel. Solids or stripes?"   
  
Their game ended up lasting two hours. Spike was pleased to find that Angel was a skilled player. During the course of their game, he took the time to admire her comely features. Her eyes were hazel, with tiny pinpoints of green. Her hair draped around her shoulders like a living thing, thick and golden, and coiled like a snake. He found that association odd- and wondered where the thought had come from. Before he could consider it further, she dropped her last ball in the socket. "I win." Spike casually lit a cigarette, laying his cue on the table. "So what's your prize?" Angel lay her elbows on the green table surface, leaning forward to look at Spike steadily. "I want you to do something for me." Copying her gesture, Spike looked back, a slow smile forming. "And what would that be?" He asked, smoke rising between them. Unblinking, Angel took the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it out on the pool table. "I want to hire you."  
  
"She wants to what?" Spike sat on the yellow couch, cigarette dangling from his lips, while Jet, and Faye sat across from him. On the floor, Ed was typing madly on her 'Tomato', while Ein snoozed at her feet. "Geez Jet, even I heard him the first time. So what does she want us to do?" Spike regarded Faye expressionlessly. "Not 'us'- 'me'."  
  
"No work for Faye-Faye! Hahaha!" Squealed Ed from the floor, bobbing back and forth before the colorful screen. "Shut up Ed!" Shouted Faye, pulling her feet up under her. "Both of you shut up!" Shouted Jet. Turning back to regard his partner, he leaned his arms on his knees. "So how much is she willing to pay?" Spike stretched slowly, wincing a little as he pulled at his wounded shoulder. "40 million." Ed giggled at the computer. "I got you, fishy fishies! Dive boooooommbb- KABOOOOOM!" Ignoring the girl, Faye sat up quickly. "Who's the bounty head?" Spike crushed his cigarette under his shoe. "Forget it Faye. I'm going after this one."   
  
Jet frowned as Spike stood stiffly. "You know, ordinarily I'd tell Faye to mind her own business,"  
  
"Hey,"  
  
"But I think you should take her along on this one. That shoulder could cause problems."   
  
Spike put his hands in his pockets, giving the group a small smile. "Come on Jet, have a little faith huh?" As he left the room, Faye crossed her arms, peeved. "Fine, he want's to get himself killed? Don't let me stand in the way!"   
  
Faye cursed as she piloted her Redtail through the city. "Damn him, bastard!" The small blip on her screen moved to the left, and she tilted the wings to follow. "Why the hell am I doing this anyhow!" She yelled, clenching her fists around the controls. Wind screamed by outside the clear dome of her cockpit. Before her rose the tall spire of the Black Pearl restaurant. Just beyond it was a shorter building, her destination.   
  
Spike flicked his lighter, inhaling deeply as the end of his cigarette caught the flame. Blowing out a stream of smoke, he shut the lighter with a soft snap. Angel's description of the guy was quite detailed- down to the drink he usually ordered at the bar. Soft jazz floated up to greet him as he entered the darkened pub. The place was packed, bodies moving back and forth like a continuous wave. Definitely not the sort of place Spike normally frequented. In a shadowy booth, Spike caught sight of his quarry. Casually, Spike lifted a beer from the loaded tray of a serving girl that passed him. Taking a sip, he moved to sit in the booth right behind his prey. Unfortunately, the booth was occupied.   
  
"Hey pal, find your own spot, this one is taken!" Said the angry man and Spike squeezed in next to his girlfriend. For her part, she merely smiled, running a hand through her coppery hair. A faint blush colored her cheeks. Spike returned her smile. "Not to worry folks, I don't plan to be here long." The man started to protest again, but the girl simply gave him a cold look. "Shut up Mark, this was getting old anyhow!" Taken aback by her attitude, Mark muttered darkly and stalked from the table, shoving someone to the floor as he left. "Nice guy- you weren't dating him were you?" The girl grinned. "Who?"  
  
With a small laugh, Spike turned around in the booth, draping his arms across the backrest. The bounty head was curled around his untouched drink, a small piece of paper before him. Scrawled on the surface, Spike could just make out the letters X.P.D.- H.H.Q. "Interesting reading, though usually I go for something with more than one sentence." At Spike's even tone, the man startled, toppling his drink in the process. The sound of the glass shattering was ignored by both men. "Who the hell..." The man turned, and came face to face with the business end of Spike's Ruger. "What's say we take this outside huh? It's kinda stuffy in here." Glaring, the man placed his left hand on the table to push himself upright. His right hand clenched tightly around the paper he'd been holding. As Spike led him to the door, he looked down at the woman he'd shared a booth with. "A pleasure meeting you ma'am." She blushed again, her blue eyes sparkling. "Pleasure's all mine cowboy."  
  
As Spike pushed his bounty through the door, he suddenly sensed movement on both sides. Ducking quickly, he felt the wind from the shotgun blast that went over his head. At the same time, he saw his bounty make a break for it. "Uh uh, no way pal!" Spinning quickly, he delivered a jaw shattering kick in the face of one of his attackers. As the man dropped with a pain-filled grunt, Spike jabbed his hand out, palm upright, and broke the nose of the other guy who dove in from the front. Unfortunately, the move tore at the healing wound in Spike's shoulder, and he had to clench his teeth to ward off the pain as he raced after his escaping bounty.  
  
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Finally- some stinking Bebop characters! I'm grateful to those who've come this far with me! I promise, this (maybe) will start making sense soon!  
  
Please let me know what you think! Oh- and I'm sorry about the formatting, I'll repost this at my website so you can see what is should have looked like. Bye for now!  
  
http://www.geocities.com/naninuyasha/index.html 


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